Compensation
by PenPistola
Summary: Compensation', or, 'How to Destroy Jr.'s Dignity in Less than Five Minutes'. Rated for innuendo and Jr.'s potty mouth.


Disclaimer: If I owned Saga, it'd be rated X, If I owned Saga there'd be much more sex. If I owned Saga, life would be a blast, but I don't own Saga, so don't sue my ass!

A/N: Sorry this is so crappy and cliché. I just wanted to submit something until I got around to writing something better.

It was when Gaignun Kukai was sitting in his huge, winged chair in his office on the Foundation, with his snifter in one hand and a half-empty bottle in the other, that the revelation hit him. The mental pulse he sent out was enough to knock Jr., several parsecs away, to his butt on the bridge of the Durandal. Mary and Shelley stared.

"Little Master, what is it?" demanded Mary in her outer-planetary drawl. Shelley shook her head.

"I thought I felt something from Master Gaignun too. It seemed urgent." Despite her words, her voice was unnervingly calm. Jr. got to his feet in a flash, dusting himself off.

"Set our course back to the Foundation, now!" Shelley nodded, fingers furiously typing orders to Pieta and the gaggle of 100-series in front of them. The enormous ship took a 180-degree turn back in the direction of the Foundation. Jr. paced back and forth, hands wavering over his holsters. 'Gaignun better not be in trouble,' he thought. 'He already owes me big time.'

"Autopilot engaging," said Shelley from her command station. Jr. growled in frustration.

"Autopilot override! We have no time for this. We're taking her in manually!" He shoved Shelley out of the way roughly, entering code and grabbing onto the back of her seat for support as the Durandal lurched forward and screeched into its dock at the center of the Foundation's great lake. The airlocks had barely been released when Jr. boarded his private shuttle and was gone headed for Gaignun's office.

Gaignun was staring, stupefied as Jr. burst through the heavy wooden door, which clattered against the wall behind him. "Gaignun!" Jr. cried, slamming his hands down on the desk. "What is it?" he panted breathlessly.

Gaignun seemed to stare past him. Jr., panicked, waved a hand in front of Gaignun's eyes. Finally, Gaignun pointed at what he was staring at—the Durandal, rising up out of the lake beyond his window.

"The Durandal?" Jr. demanded. "Is it in trouble? Gaignun, what is it!?" Gaignun twirled the snifter around in his hands. "You're drunk, aren't you?" Jr. accused, shoving Gaignun's shoulder roughly. "Just tell me what this is about."

"I realized something," said Gaignun, hiccupping. "The Durandal… you…" Jr. raised a finely arched eyebrow. "We've had the Durandal for how long and I never realized until now?" Gaignun said in wonderment. The brandy was rising, flushing his cheeks and giving him the boldness to say something he hadn't even dared think until now. "The Durandal. You. You're compensating!" The giggle that escaped his lips was cut off by Jr.'s outraged cry.

"THAT'S what you dragged me all the way out here to tell me? You knocked me on my ass to tell me that I'm COMPENSATING for something!?" His eyes flashed red in warning, but Gaignun just giggled again.

"You are, aren't you?" he said, pointing out the window again. "Look at it! It's like… it's like a giant dick!" The snifter dropped to the floor, shattering, as Gaignun hugged himself with laughter. In an instant, Jr.'s cheeks were as scarlet as his hair.

"Gimme that!" Jr. cried, and he snatched the brandy bottle away. He made as if to toss it in the wastebasket next to the desk, but thought twice and instead tilted his head back and chugged two or three gulps. Gaignun stared.

"Rubedo, you weigh half what I do," he said, taking the bottle back from Jr., who collapsed in a chair opposite the desk. Jr. just growled. Gaignun sighed, unable to keep the smile from his lips. "Just admit it. You're compensating." Jr. glared at him from his chair.

"You try having a twelve-year-old's dick for all eternity! Fuck yeah, I'm compensating…" he grumbled. Gaignun erupted with laughter, clutching the arms of his chair as Jr. felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. "What's so funny?!" he demanded, feeling the warm fuzziness washing over him like a wave. Suddenly, Gaignun sat upright, eyes wide.

"Rubedo, have you ever… are you a…" he started, but Jr. cut him off.

"Nigredo! What kind of a question is that?!" Jr. shrieked, indignant. "This isn't Truth or Dare, dammit!" Gaignun tittered, most un-Gaignunlike.

"Just answer the question, Rubedo," he said silkily.

"Well..." Jr. mumbled slowly. "That's really private…don't understand why you're…why you'd want to know something like that…" He seemed to sink down into the cushions of the chair.

"Come on," Gaignun coaxed. "Are you a…?"

"No," said Jr. shortly, and he ducked behind the armrest of the chair as Gaignun promptly fell out of his.

"Rubedo, you dog!" Gaignun cried as he clambered back into his seat. "But you just said—twelve-year old's—how?!" he stammered as Jr. glared daggers at him from across the desk. "That's possible?" The particular shade of Gaignun's face now surpassed Jr.'s as he got his reply.

"Damn straight!" Jr. snorted. "I may be compensating, but it works just fine!" he yelled, his words beginning to slur. Gaignun gaped.

"Well do you… can you… yanno?" he ventured, gripping the desk, on the edge of his seat. Jr. said nothing, just turned an even more violent shade of purple. Gaignun simply continued to stare until Jr. finally gave in, exasperated.

"Alright!" he yelled, and then mumbled something inaudibly.

"What was that?" Gaignun pressed.

"Mummmmrmrlblmrph," said Jr.

"I can't hear you!"

"FINE! I'M SHOOTING BLANKS!" Jr. raged, and in an instant his Makarovs were in his hands, cocked and ready. "But I assure you, these aren't!"

Gaignun ignored him, positively howling. He laughed until he cried. Jr. just stood, fuming, until Gaignun saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him freeze, the color draining from his face. Jr. lowered his guns.

"What is it?" he asked, voice quavering, gazing at the red blinking light that held Gaignun in such abject horror. "What's that light?"

"The intercom…"


End file.
